Two Good Friends
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: Hungary takes a stand against Austria, and Poland lends a hand to his oldest and dearest friend.


Poland turned his head to the side, spat out a mouthful of mud and tried to regain his bearings. His head was spinning and there was a roar in his ears, but that was fortunately fading fast. Good. He couldn't hear the cannons anymore either. Another good sign, maybe the battle had already ended. Unfortunately, he couldn't feel his left leg at all. He tried to roll over, but the thick mud kept him trapped in place.

"-land!"

A familiar voice cut through the haze, and Poland tried again to pull himself up. There was nothing for him to push off of or grab on to; his hands just sank him deeper into the mud.

"Poland!"

Hungary, his brain finally registered. Hungary was calling him.

"I'm here!" he called hoarsely. He had swallowed a bit of the mud on accident and now it seemed to cake the inside of his throat all the way down to his stomach. That nasty stuff just got everywhere.

He heard her boots splashing through the muck before she came into his limited line of sight, kneeling down beside him. She clearly had been through hell too; her long hair was tangled and matted, the infantry uniform she wore was torn and there was a cut below her right eye, dribbling blood down her cheek.

"What happened?" she breathed. Her hands hovered over him, uncertain of what to do. "Are you hurt? Can you get up?"

"'M fine," he croaked, forcing a little smile for her. "But, like, I'm totally stuck here. The mud's super sticky. Help me up?"

"Of course," she said, and dug her hands down around his chest before prying him up. The mud released him with a wet, sucking sound, and Poland's left leg suddenly stopped being numb. Hungary put him down a little too roughly when she saw his face twist up in pain.

"Fine," he gasped, before she could ask. "It's fine. Totally worse than it looks." He hadn't actually gotten a look at it yet, but there was no sense in worrying her about it. She had enough troubles.

"Is it your leg?" she asked, inching down the side of his body to get a better look. Her hand grazed lightly over his shin, and he had to bite back a yelp. "Broken, I think. What happened?"

"It's totally lame, Hungary," he laughed weakly. "Like, seriously embarrassing. You're going to laugh."

"I swear I won't."

"Yeah, okay. So like, I'm fighting alongside everyone else, and it's all going pretty good, and then some jerk-wad shoots my horse. Like, while I'm still on it and all. So it kind of falls, and I fall with it, and I guess I, like, hit the ground a lot harder than I thought, 'cause all the sudden everything's over and it's totally quiet. Guess I was out for a good chunk of the battle. Sorry."

"Don't be," she said briskly. "You've done more than enough for me already. I'm afraid your horse is dead, though."

Poland turned his head to the large, motionless shape Hungary was looking at, not far from where he had been stuck.

"Oh…" he said quietly. "That…that really sucks. I mean, like, I kinda figured he was dead, but…he wasn't even my horse, y'know? General Bem let me borrow him. He let me have that horse and I let him get killed. It was a really good horse, too."

"He'll forgive you," Hungary insisted, touching his shoulder gently. "The general's a good man. He'll understand."

"I totally hope so. He's got a majorly scary temper."

"But still, a good man. I can't thank you enough for him, really. He's a godsend."

"I'm, like, so glad he's been a big help here. Austria's so not the pushover I thought he'd be. We kinda need all the help we can get." He struggled to sit up, grimacing when the movement sent shockwaves of pain shooting up his leg.

"Enough," Hungary said firmly. "We need to find a doctor for you. Can you walk? No, stupid question, don't even try it." She crouched down and turned her back to him. "Put your arms around my neck, I'll carry you."

"No way, I'm totally fine-"

"Don't be silly. Just do it."

There was no arguing with that tone (and he had no energy for it anyway,) so Poland gave in, and with a great deal of awkward shuffling, managed to push himself up against her back and loop his arms around her shoulders.

"Hold on tight," she instructed, and pushed herself to her feet. They wobbled for a moment, trying to get their balance, and Poland wrapped his good leg around her as best as he could.

Neither spoke for a while, and there was no sound but the wind and the wet thud of Hungary's footsteps. A silence had fallen over the field, the kind of silence that only came after a battle. Most of the living had already left that place, and the only ones that remained were still and quiet, just shapes sticking out of the mud. Hungary was careful to walk around them.

"I haven't had a piggy back ride in….I dunno, centuries," Poland mumbled after a bit. "Sorry, Hungary."

"Sorry for what? You send me a brilliant general, lend some of your own men to my cause and even come out here yourself to fight at my side. What more could anyone ask for?"

"But I'm, like, a total dead weight right now," he said bitterly into her shoulder. "I'm trying to help you get your independence and instead you have to, like, carry me off the battlefield like I'm a sack of potatoes or something."

"You're being ridiculous. It's not as though you've never had to drag _me_ off a battlefield before. And anyway, I'm just glad to have you here. Even if you didn't bring General Bem to me, even if you didn't send a single soldier, even if you didn't fight next to me, I'd still be glad to have you at my side. It's a little easier, just having you here."

"Knock it off, Hungary. You're, like, going to make me blush," Poland chuckled, giving her a little punch on the arm. A jolt went through Hungary's back, and he heard her gasp sharply.

"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to twist his head around to get a look. "Something wrong with your arm?" He gave the arm in question an experimental poke, and Hungary jerked slightly again.

"Nothing's wrong," Hungary insisted, but her voice was tense. Now that Poland stopped to look, he could see a red stain on her sleeve, creeping around to the back of her arm.

"Liar, you're hurt! Put me down, you're, like, probably making it worse by carrying me."

"I said I'm alright, Poland. It's just a scratch."

"Put me down, or I'll poke you again. I totally will."

"Try it, I'll drop you."

"C'mon, just stop for, like, five minutes. Let me take a look at it. You so can't bandage that yourself."

Hungary grumbled something darkly under her breath, but reluctantly dropped to the ground again, putting Poland back down as gently as she could before holding out her arm for his inspection. There was a gash just above her elbow, through her uniform and down deep into her skin.

"Pretty nasty," Poland commented, ripping the tear in her sleeve open further in order to see the wound. "Looks like a saber, or a bayonet maybe."

"Bayonet. One of Austria's men came at me, and I wasn't fast enough." She shrugged lightly. "Though he was aiming for my stomach, so I guess I came out okay. Gut wounds are never pretty."

"And, like, what happened to that man?"

"I shot him, of course."

"Good girl," Poland said approvingly, tying her wound with a mostly-clean handkerchief. "There, that should, like, slow the bleeding a bit. It should be okay for now."

"Thanks," she said, and smiled for the first time all day. "It feels a little better now."

"It should! My first-aid is, like, the best," Poland said, returning the smile and reaching over to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. "What happened to the flower you were wearing?"

"Oh, I don't know. It must have fallen out in the middle of everything."

"Too bad. You look nice, with a flower in your hair. You should totally wear a red poppy next time. It'd look seriously pretty!"

She shook her head sadly. "I'm starting to think flowers are for ladies. I'm not much of a lady."

"What? That's totally stupid. Who says you aren't a lady?"

"Austria." It was barely more than a whisper, and her eyes dropped down to the ground. "When I left. He said I was more barbarian than lady. He was pretty mad at the time, but still."

"You don't need Austria," Poland said fiercely, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. "You totally don't. He doesn't know you at all. Who cares what he thinks? You don't need him. You and me, we were never meant to live under someone else. We'll make him leave you alone for good, and you can be your own country again."

"And if we fail?"

"Then we keep trying. Duh. We just keep getting up every time they knock us down, rise up over and over like a phoenix."

Hungary stared at him for a minute, and then her face melted into a smile.

"What would I do without you?"

"I dunno, probably be all sad and junk. Oh, and feel free to return the favor if I ever start getting all down and feeling sorry for myself. Be like, 'Poland, quit being a baby, you loser.'"

"I'll remember that."

"You better. And you better remember that Austria is so totally wrong about you. You're definitely a lady. The best, toughest, most beautiful kind."

Hungary turned pink and grinned bashfully.

"Flattery will get you nowhere!"

"It's totally not flattery," he said, surprisingly serious. "I'm just telling the truth. Anyone who says otherwise is, like, totally stupid. Or blind."

She shook her head awkwardly, but the grin didn't leave her face as she reached across the space between them to grab his hands.

"You're a good friend, Poland," she said, twisting their fingers together tightly. "You really are. The best, toughest, most beautiful kind of friend."

"Like, of course. _Polak, Węgier, dwa bratanki, i do szabli, i do szklank_," Poland said with a smile. The words were warm and familiar between them.

"_Lengyel, magyar két jó barát, együtt harcol s issza borát_," Hungary repeated, echoing the old saying in her own language. "The Pole and Hungarian are two good friends…"

Historical Notes:

Poland and Hungary have been very close friends and allies for about the past thousand years, and have frequently supported each other throughout history. Just one of those times was in 1848, when Hungary fought a war of independence against Austria. Hungarians. Józef Bem, a brilliant Polish general, also fought in that war for Hungary, and is considered a hero in both Poland and Hungary. At first the Hungarians were winning, but ultimately they lost the war after Franz Joseph I asked Tsar Nicolas I for help. Even with help from Poland and others, Hungary couldn't stand against the combined force of Austria and Russia.

Hungary and Poland are really very close; they even have a saying, in both languages, about their relationship. In Hungarian, it's '_Lengyel, magyar két jó barát, együtt harcol s issza borát_,' which roughly translates to, 'The Pole and Hungarian are two good friends, they fight and drink their wine together.' The Polish equivalent is '_Polak, Węgier, dwa bratanki, i do szabli, i do szklanki_,' roughly meaning 'The Pole and Hungarian are brothers, both with the saber and the drinking glass.' There is even a holiday to celebrate their relationship; March 23 is the Day of Hungarian-Polish Friendship.

I only recently found out about how Hungary and Poland are, like, the most amazingly wonderful friends in the history of the world. Seriously, watch these videos, see if they don't make you melt. Their thousand years of love and devotion is so heartwarming...

youtube . com/watch?v=_YJVO6jPaR0&

youtube . com/watch?v=eO1YoFTnET0&

(Take the spaces out, obviously.)

Kindly leave a review on your way out, I love to hear what you think.


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